


17: Both A Constant And Ever-Changing State

by mardia



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-18
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic comprised of seventeen connected drabbles. The good, the bad, the sublime, and everything in between. Casey POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	17: Both A Constant And Ever-Changing State

****

215: disintegration/dissolution

The last real fight Casey ever has—

(the fight that signals the end, even if he doesn't know it yet)

—with Lisa doesn't end in tears, and it doesn't end in slammed doors.

"Jesus _Christ_," he yells at last, feeling helpless, feeling like he's about to fly apart because all of this is bigger than him, it's beyond his control and maybe always has been. "Lisa, what the hell is it you _want_ from me?"

And she just looks at him, sad and defeated and says, "I want you to admit, just this once, that you love him. Just this once, Casey, and I swear I won't bring it up again."

But she will, Casey knows she will, they've been having this fight constantly for the last five years, even when neither of them will say a word. "Oh, God," he says, almost laughing because, God, isn't it funny. It is funny, almost, and by this point, he has to laugh just so he won't start screaming. "Lisa, I'm not getting into this with you again. Dan's straight. _I'm_ straight. I'm married to _you_, I'm not having some gay affair with my best friend—"

"Yeah," Lisa says, her voice still faint and sad, "—and you still love him more than you love me."

 

****

82: ah, but underneath

It's a shameful thing to admit, but underneath the bitterness and the grief over what he's lost, there's a tiny, tiny part of Casey that's just a little bit relieved. There's a part of him that acknowledges this is for the best.

It's only a tiny part, and he buries it, because if he didn't, there would be other things in his brain he would have to unbury and take a closer look at, and Casey doesn't think he could handle that.

 

****

169: and the wayward son shall carry on.

Life goes on, and so does Casey. Albeit with a few screwups. There's the thing with Sally and the thing with Dana and Sally and Gordon (and Dan, always Dan to think about) and then there's just Dana and her _plan_, but by then, he's had his fill of insanity.

There are crises at work and days he has to go on the air without his pants—

(and usually that's Dan's fault)

—but there's laughter and blue margaritas and _my my my boogie shoes_ and nights where Jeremy manages to clean them all out at poker—minus the one night where Natalie has a freakish streak of luck with the cards that she calls "talent" and the rest of them call "an act of God".

And there's a moment where he can point and say, _there, there is one all-important thing I managed to get across to my son._

And even when Casey admits that this is not the life he'd planned, it's still a pretty good life to have.

 

****

118: another day, another bruise.

Casey characterizes Draft Day 2000 as a sucker punch to the stomach. Because Dan is not supposed to be that guy. Dan's the guy Casey depends on, the guy that Casey knows won't ever deliberately try to hurt him, and for ten seconds when he's on the air, Casey is simultaneously hot and cold with fury.

But they get past it, they move on, because Danny's in pain and Casey gets that, because Isaac once told him it's about gestures and because—

(Casey loves him more than anything else)

—they've been partners for ten years. Casey's not about to throw that away.

That's the thing about sucker punches. You never see them coming—but eventually the sting fades.

 

****

98: sometimes we get lucky, and the hard choices are avoided for us.

Going to LA is never an option for Casey. And yes, he has to put his son first. Moving three thousand miles away from Charlie would be like asking him to live without an arm and a leg. Casey hates having to prioritize, but there it is.

(Not seeing Dan every day will also feel like he's missing a limb, but Casey tries not to think about that.)

When the ninth-inning rally, as Jeremy would put it, comes through—Casey is beyond relieved that he doesn't actually have to learn how to operate without any of his appendages.

 

****

387: you know how it goes, in vino veritas…

Jeremy is very, very drunk. And Casey is very, very amused at Jeremy being very, very drunk.

(Possibly Casey is a little bit drunk himself, but that's how it goes.)

"Do you know what's funny?" Jeremy says, laughing before the joke was even told.

Casey grins and leans back in his seat. "What?"

"When I first started at the show—"

"Ah, those were the days," Casey says in a reminiscent tone. Actually, it feels like Jeremy has always been there, always been a part of Sports Night with his encyclopedia for a brain, always in that strange, not easily explainable relationship with Natalie.

He shares this with Jeremy, who nods like Casey has said something profound. "Yes, thank you, I appreciate that, it's really nice to hear—"

"I'm glad, get back to your point," Casey says. Drunk Jeremy rambles even more than Sober Jeremy does, if that's at all possible, and everyone who works at Sports Night—and quite a few regulars at Anthony's—can all attest that it in fact is.

"Yes, my point! My point was, when I first started at Sports Night, I was very confused."

Casey nods, hoping to speed the story up. Dana's over at the bar, and she looks like she's half a margarita away from dancing, and Casey always tries to never miss Drunk Dancing Dana. Oh, alliteration. Heh.

"Because—and this was in the early days, you understand, where I was perhaps not quite as wise as I am now—I thought that you and Dan were…_partners_."

Casey blinks. If that's the punchline, then it kinda sucks. "Jeremy," he said slowly, because it's always important to humor the drunk person, "—Dan and I are partners."

"No, no, no, no," Jeremy says, shaking his head firmly. "Casey, you're misunderstanding. I thought you two were _partners._" On the last word, Jeremy gives Casey a significant look that Casey doesn't understand, and then he does.

"Partners as in—"

"As in Sir Elton John and his partner, whose name sadly escapes me at the moment, yes."

"Huh," Casey says slowly. Somewhere in the back of his head, Casey can feel the beginnings of a world-class freakout coming up on the horizon, but then Dana jumps up on a table and starts dancing to Aretha Franklin, and he gets distracted.

 

****

115: two's company.

"Jeremy used to think we were gay."

Dan looks up from his computer, a look of clear disbelief on his face. "I'm sorry, come again?"

"You heard me." Casey has thought about it, and he's decided that if he's going to freak out about it, he's not going to do it alone.

Although Dan looks like he's going to freak out a lot more than Casey, and huh. Interesting. "And where did he get this crazy idea?"

"Don't know. I asked him, and he said something about vibes."

Dan blinks, then gets up. "Okay, I'm going to go and—talk. To Jeremy."

Casey just gives him a wave and a cheery grin. "You do that."

 

****

56: not just a river in Egypt.

Casey doesn't think about it. If some people—

(Lisa and now Jeremy, and those are just the ones he knows about)

—want to assume something that isn't true, Casey can't do a thing about it.

He doesn't think about it.

(It used to be a lot easier to lie to himself. He wonders when that changed.)

 

****

132: was blind, but now

Denial doesn't work so well.

It starts with Dan asking for a pen, and Casey handing it to him. Their fingers tangle for a split-second, and Casey wonders if his fingers are supposed to feel so hot suddenly, if that spark that he felt can just be put down to static electricity.

It starts with that and it grows from there, until Casey is sneaking looks at Dan, Dan's mouth, Dan's hands, the half-inch of skin that appears when Dan twists and raises his arms above his head to stretch out his back.

Casey can't stop looking.

Yeah, that denial thing's gone right out the window by this point. Casey almost has the urge to call Lisa up and admit, _yes, yes, you were maybe just a little bit right all along._

 

****

535: truth in wine, or in this case, truth in jaegermeister

"Okay, I think in the morning I'm going to have to remind you about the no-Jaegermeister rule we've got," Dan says, guiding Casey to the elevator with a steadying hand on his back.

Casey definitely doesn't lean into his touch, not even a little bit. That would be bad.

Once they're inside the elevator, Casey leans against the wall. Dan's at the panel of buttons, and as he pushes the one that will get them to Casey's floor, he looks over at Casey and smirks. "Seriously, we're going to review the no-Jaegermeister rule in the morning. Although I'm sure you won't need any reminding, what with the massive hangover you're sure to come down with."

Casey shrugs. "Jeremy had never tried Jaegermeister before. It was my duty to go along with him for the ride."

"Uh huh. And I'm sure that in the morning, Jeremy's going to want to thank you for that introduction. Natalie too."

When they're finally in his apartment, Casey pretty much immediately collapses on the bed while Dan goes in search of water and aspirin.

When Dan comes back, Casey's spread-eagled across the bed. Dan just raises an eyebrow and hands him the glass of water. "Here. You're going to want to drink that, trust me."

"I always trust you," Casey tells him, and to prove it, he does what Dan tells him to, drinking every drop.

Dan laughs. "Yeah? Well, after tomorrow morning, Jeremy won't."

Casey carefully sets the empty glass on the bed, and says, "Pfft. Jeremy thought we were in love with each other. I'm not really worried about Jeremy."

"Jeremy's a loon," Dan snorts, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"He's not the only one," Casey admits, staring up at the ceiling. "Lisa thought so too."

Somewhere in the back of his head, Casey knows he probably shouldn't have said that out loud. When he looks up and sees Dan's shocked face, he's _sure_ of it.

"Lisa thought _what_?"

"Lisa thought we were in love with each other. That's why we split up, really." That's not quite right, but that's the closest to it that Casey will ever get, especially when he's more than a little drunk from the Jaegermeister.

Dan is just staring at him. "What?"

"Because of…Late Night. That's why we—she said that the reason I gave it up was because I was in love with you. And she couldn't take it."

Danny's still staring at him, and he looks—oh, he looks stricken. Casey makes an effort to sit up and finally manages it, despite the fact that his head is starting to hurt and his stomach doesn't feel so steady at the moment. "Hey, it's okay," he says as reassuringly as he can. "It's okay—I wouldn't change anything anyway. It's all right."

Dan seems to come to a decision of sorts, and gets up, gently pushing down on Casey's shoulder. "It's okay, Case. Lie down."

"I really wouldn't, Dan. I'd make the same decisions all over again. That's why Lisa and I broke up; she knew that. Don't you know that, Danny?"

"Shh, go to sleep," Dan says, and despite the fact that he doesn't want to, Casey does anyway.

 

****

64: and when the morning comes…

When Casey wakes up, it's to a pounding headache and the sight of a full glass of water, sitting next to a bottle of aspirin on the nightstand.

_Danny_, he thinks, right before his stomach pitches and he has to make a break for the bathroom.

He doesn't remember last night's conversation until fifteen minutes later, and when he does, he groans loudly. God_dammit._

 

****

175: the truth will come out (sort of).

They get through half of the workday—

(an awful, stilted, awkward as _hell_ workday)

—before one of them cracks, and no one is more surprised than Casey when it turns out to be him.

"I remember last night. What I said," Casey admits quietly, staring at his screen in order not to look at Dan. "If—if you want to talk about it."

For the longest moment, Dan doesn't say anything. Then—"Was it true?"

Casey stares at the screen until the words blur together. "Yeah," he admits at last. "Yeah, it—that's what Lisa thought."

"And is that why you two split up?"

"No," Casey says firmly. At Dan's disbelieving look, he amends it to, "That wasn't the only reason, Danny, far from it. There were a lot of factors that went into the divorce." Seeing that Danny still doesn't believe him, Casey bursts out, "Dan, Lisa wasn't happy. Neither was I. That's what ended our marriage—not anything you did."

Dan nods after a long moment. "Okay."

And that's where it should end.

 

****

5: and yet.

That's not where it ends.

 

****

120: An interested third party and a busybody are often one and the same.

Natalie corners him in the editing room. Without any preamble, she asks, "What's going on with you and Dan?"

Casey blinks, nonplussed, and turns around in his chair. "I'm fine, Natalie, and how are you doing this morning?"

"I'm doing great, Casey. What's going on with you and Dan?"

"I'm glad to hear it. And there's nothing going on," Casey says easily.

"Casey, do you remember what happens when Dan doesn't share?"

"We lose our pants."

Natalie nods solemnly. "Exactly. And if the circumstances are right, I can extend that policy to you too. You just think about that."

Casey's pretty damn sure Natalie should be able to scare him the way she does. But she does, and he is.

 

****

389: Jumping doesn't always mean falling.

"Natalie's threatening to take away our pants again," Casey says.

Dan smiles faintly. "Gotta tell you man, I'm almost getting used to it." He quickly grows serious, though, and looks at Casey in a way that Casey can't read. "Why didn't you say anything? Back then."

"Because at the time, I thought she was crazy," Casey says, almost flippant. "It's not exactly something I feel comfortable sharing, Danny, the idea that my wife might be insane."

Danny looks at him for a long, long moment, then says, very quietly and with a hint of incredulity, "At the time? What about now, Casey?"

There have been a few moments where Casey has felt like his life is a runaway train—no matter what he does, it's going to keep speeding up and all he can hope is that the crash won't hurt too much.

Runaway train, and Casey knows what he's going to say, and knows he doesn't want to say it, which is why he has to. "Yeah, at the time I thought she was nuts. But now…"

Danny's voice is even quieter, but his eyes are bright with—something. "But now…" he echoes, pushing for more.

_Don't make me say it,_ Danny, he begs silently, but Casey knows he started this, he started it and he has to finish it. "Now…I don't know. I think—I think she might have been right. A little bit, at least." Casey feels a shaky smile come onto his face as he stares at this man, his partner, the guy he would do anything for. "I gave up Late Night for you. It ruined my marriage and I'd still do it over again a thousand times. I don't—if that's not love, Danny, it's pretty damn close."

And now Danny's coming forward, and placing a hesitant hand on Casey's shoulder. "Casey, if—if I were to tell you that I want nothing more than to kiss you right now, would you freak out?"

Casey's feeling almost lightheaded—from relief, from the sudden understanding that's crashing down on his head like the proverbial ton of bricks, from how little space there is between his mouth and Danny's. "No. I wouldn't."

The most amazing smile is on Dan's face right now. "Well, all right then."

And maybe they're not going to crash at all.

 

****

212: immaterial vs. pertinent facts

Casey has it on good authority that the show they did that night was good, although he can't remember a minute of it.

He doesn't remember Dana's voice in his ear, or the banter he and Dan tossed back and forth in between breaks.

He remembers Dan's leg brushing against his under the desk, and he remembers having to bite down on his lip to keep from grinning like a fool.

He remembers hearing Natalie ask Dana in a suspicious tone of voice if she doesn't think something's up with the two of them, and he remembers Dan assuring her that there is nothing at all up with them, that they are their usual eloquent selves, ready and willing to be of service.

Casey remembers the snort that he made, even if he'll lie later and say he did no such thing.

He won't remember much of the cab ride back to his apartment; he'll just be able to recall the nervous energy, Dan unable to sit still. He'll remember the cabbie's shocked face as Dan shoves a bunch of bills at him, and he'll later wonder just how much Dan paid.

He'll remember that their first kiss was in an elevator.

And everything that comes later is ingrained into his memory.

 

****

76: not everything ends with a bang (the good kind of morning-after).

When Casey wakes up, Dan's arm is around his waist and his face is buried in the nape of Casey's neck. He's snoring softly, and he's taking up way more of the bed than is his due.

And Casey has no idea why he waited so long to get here. He closes his eyes, secure in the belief that whatever comes next, today—

(and the days that come after)

—is going to be a great day.


End file.
